Mum clears her throat. ‘We don’t have to talk about Steven, if you’drather not?’ she says kindly.
I consider it. ‘No,’ I shake my head. ‘I want to. I’ve spent too long pretending he isn’t a part of my life – a part of my family – but he is. I’m not saying I want to forgive and forget everything, but I do really want to know how he’s doing.’
She nods, smiling carefully. ‘I understand, my love.’ She pauses. ‘He is awake,’ she says and I breathe in, unsurehow to feel. ‘He woke up a couple of weeks ago, but he’s still at the hospice. He can’t talk or move much yet. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, and we won’t know for a while just how bad it’ll be. But the doctors say he’s out of danger of ... passing away now.’
I bite my nail. I don’t know if this constitutes good news or not, really.
‘Are you doingOK?’ I say and Mum takesmy hand again, giving a quick nod.
‘It’s been very difficult,’ she says, her voice breaking a little. ‘Emotionally difficult, I mean.’ She pauses. ‘Actually, to be honest, in a lot of ways, it’s been easier without him here because ...’ she falters. ‘Well, you know.’
I do know. I can imagine very well the difference between being afull-time carer to alife-long alcoholic and thefull-time carer of alife-long alcoholic who is in hospital, barely conscious.
Mum lifts her head up and continues. ‘At the moment, Steven can’t do much, but the doctors say it is possible he’ll get better. It’s a long process, waiting to see how much his brain can repair itself and make new pathways. But I’m hoping to be able to bring him home soon. I want to have him here if I can, I want to beable to look after him.’
‘Like always,’ I say simply, but there isn’t any resentment in my voice. I know that Mum will always do that for him. I can’t punish her for that.
She looks at me. ‘What happened?’ she asks, sounding so sad. ‘You were there one minute and gone the next. I lost you. What happened?’
I stare at the floor, at the wet patch from the tea.
‘It was everything,’I say at last. ‘The years of watching you suffer ... I couldn’t do that forever. But the final straw was the day I broke up with Kit and you wouldn’t come. I needed you and you wouldn’t come. You chose Steven, when I was more heartbroken than I’d ever been before. I’ve never needed my mum more than that day and you wouldn’t come. I knew then that you’d never be there for me like I needed. I don’tblame you any more, but it felt impossible to keep going on that road.’
She frowns. ‘But I didn’t know you needed me,’ she says, sounding perplexed. ‘You didn’t tell me. You sent me that one text saying you’d split up, but I didn’t even know you loved him. Why didn’t you tell me how upset you were? I tried to call you, I emailed, I texted ...’
I shake my head, trying not to get angry.‘I did call you!’ I raise my voice, upset at the memory. ‘I called and messaged you so many times. I was a mess. It was humiliating.’
She takes my hands in hers, and she is shaking.
‘Alice,’ she says carefully, her white face close to mine. ‘You listen to me.’ She breathes in deeply, shakily. ‘You didn’t. You texted me once, saying you’d broken up with Kit, and that you wereOK– thatI shouldn’t worry. I would’ve come, of course I would have. I would always be there for you. If I’d known you needed me. You didn’t give me the chance to choose you. You are remembering this wrong, my darling. I didn’t even know you were serious with that boy until Mark told me, weeks later. And by then, you wouldn’t answer my messages.’
We fall silent. Is that right? Have I really builtthis up in my head over the years into something it wasn’t? I was such a mess in those weeks after I broke up with Kit. My head was all over the place. I remember sending that first text to Mum and then ...? But I must’ve ... I was so used to protecting her by then, maybe I did tell her not to worry. I was sure she had failed me but what if I didn’t give her the chance? How could I be so stupid.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Mum says, watching my face. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Alice. I can’t ... I had no idea. I would’ve been there, I swear I would’ve ... Oh, my darling girl, I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I can’t believe ...’ Her voice breaks and I squeeze her hand.
‘It’s my fault,’ I say simply. ‘I had this idea that you should be able to tell I needed you. And I didn’t thinkyou would come anyway, I didn’t trust you to come, so I didn’t tell you. And then I think I built it up in my head over the years to protect myself. To stop myself from ever having to be the one at fault.’
I look again around the room, at all the mementos of our lives before all this. Photos, keepsakes, souvenirs. Evidence of my mum’s love.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, shaking hard, as thetears start rolling down my face again. She reaches up to wipe them away with her thumb and the gesture is too much. I cry hard and she pulls me in.
‘You’re really here,’ she murmurs into my ear. ‘You’re really here. This makes everything better, Alice. There is nothing I can’t do with you back here by my side, back as a part of my life. My Alice, my wonderful Alice.’ Her voice is thick. ‘Idon’t know if this is real, is this real? I don’t know if you are.’ She touches my face and a tear makes its way down her creased cheek.
‘You are,’ she whispers. ‘You are real, and you’re really here. I’ve missed you so much, my darling child.’
We sit there for a long time then, crying and holding hands.
